Roman Legion
by Rorin C
Summary: Lancelot's heart had been torn once, and after finding someone in the most unlikly places, he is unwilling to hand her over to her death - Rome. Can Arthur save his friend? Will Rome take the one person to open up this dark Knight? R
1. One: Three Days

Roman Legion

Note: If you've read my stuff before, then you know this. I don't portray all characters in the light most would like, but it's MY stories, so please no flames about Lancelot's attitude. Its how I like to write, input is nice, but disrespect isn't. SO please keep that in mind. And if you've read any of my other fics, then you know I enjoy writing about Lancelot, because his attitude is so simple to mold and create and explosive situation.

Italics mean either a memory, a future occurrence, or a thought.

SO this story fits in after Beautiful Disaster, and before Fondness...lol if you can get that.

One

"Don't leave me." A low husky voice called out in the darkness of the night. Small glimpses of the moon crept threw the shielded window, covered with a sheet. Her face, olive toned while his armor shook, the noise ringing in the small chambers. His fiery eyes traced to her body, she lay, under a thick fur blanket, her legs peeking from underneath it. His rough body slowly began undone, her eyes calling for him to move faster.

"I wouldn't dare," Chills drove over her glowing skin when his deep voice responded, her body could barely contain her emotions as he knelt to her side, his eyes never once blinking.

Lifting her fragile fingers, her warmth floated over him, as she touched his cheek. He let out a muffled groan, as her lips met his. She needed him, in every sense of the word. And as he finally gave himself to her, all of the things she had to deal with had vanished with his rough touch.

The night didn't hold enough stars and she begged for more time with him. But he promised to return in the later hours of the evening as dawn approached. Her hair, now tangled, in loose curls with glimmering blonde highlights bleeding from the light now released in the room as the sun knocked at their window. Standing up, he placed his armor back on, not drawing his eyes to her face, knowing she was call him back to bed.

And like that, Lancelot was gone.

The air was thick, and the uneasy feeling was becoming more current as Roman Legion entered the outpost stationed by Artorius Castus and his Sarmatian Knights. The gates constantly opened, and Arthur began to allow it more frequent, hoping his beloved friend Lana would come home.

She was closer to him than most, and known as the great warrior's sister. With no blood between them, they simply grew together, and formed a bond which no one could question. And like his fellow Knights, Lana had become a key ingredient to Arthur's happiness. Yet in a deal with Rome, she was taken to the land, and prodded for information and tactics on how the Knight where so unstoppable. And with the Roman's entrance, each time they hopes were high for Lana to return.

Yet with each slip of the gates, her long brown hair never appeared until ten months later. Which leads us today.

The flames on the burning candles sucked the wax from the stick, daring to take their life while the Knights, gathered around the table. Arthur, sat in his exact seat, as tradition all of the men sat in the same seat...Almost as if it was lucky, or held some sort of powers.

The morning was grim, to say the least. Gray clouds threatened the gardeners, while the sun attempted to bleach the sky, but always second to the clouds. A bitter breeze came down from the south, and the winter like weather in late autumn reminded many of snow.

The dank hallway, leading Fortress hall held paintings, those of importance to Arthur, and Rome. All the Knights ignored them, spitting at the ground as the golden laced images mocked them. Tristan didn't mind fighting, but everyone else wanted to leave this hell. And the green lacer underneath the scorned paintings held the imprints of bricks with the flickering of flames repeating down the hall. The long walk to the round table always held mix feelings, along with many alcoholic drinks, stories to tell, and business to be arranged. Lancelot seemed to be the last to enter, as all the men stared, as if he needed an explanation. But he was adored by Arthur, a man which Arthur could never be - so his explanation was never needed.

But his moments of concentration had vanished, as her face lifted from the glass of water, and over to his brilliant eyes. He could feel his throat tense up, and his heart eliminate any normal beating. All she could do was give him a usual stare, as though he was an enemy. Locking his jaw tightly, Lancelot blinked away her face, before sitting a seat away from her.

Taking a quick sip of her water, Lana lowered her breath while Arthur spoke.

"Seems Rome believes at the East their men have been ambushed, and thus lost a valuable cargo." Arthur said as Bors grunted with a harsh laugh.

"Let'em clean their own mess!" He shouted as Galahad, Gawain and the others laughed. Arthur smirked, his eyes lighting up as the seriousness disappeared from the room, yet Lana and Lancelot weren't laughing, the tense between them was apparent.

"They wish it to be retrieved within three nights." Lana interrupted their laughter, hoping to silence the rowdy crowd, the more the Knights stared at her, the more they could notice Rome in her eyes. She'd been stuck in Arthur's dream city for far too long if you asked them. Bors believed Rome was 'eating away at her soul', stealing the fire Lana was known for. As their voices left the table, she continued. "As soon as the cargo is returned, I shall accompany it back to Rome."

"Lana!" Bors demanding voice called everyone to his attention as she perked up her ears and her face became softer to the naked eye. "Drink!" Bors continued as Lana rolled her eyes before leaning back in her chair.

Entertained, Arthur watched, his sister was grown though still so young and held her child attributes. When things didn't go her way, her posture failed and her patients could break.

"Bors, as this is a simple mission to you, this is my reputation, as well as Arthur's. If that cargo is lost, stolen, or ruined, not only will is be on my shoulders, but you will no longer gain the benefits from Rome." thus she meant no wine, no well-made clothing, and no more of that chocolate Bors fancied so much.

"Benefits?" Galahad hollered, his face red from the word 'Rome', he was young, several years behind Lana and his idea of Rome was twisted. And as much as Lana hated Rome, she didn't have time to be anger over it. "What have we gained from Rome besides a field full of dead and scars to tell our children?" The table was getting rowdy, and Arthur, Lancelot and Lana held the same stern face. But all of them had different perception of why they weren't joining in.

Arthur, calm and cool allowed Galahad and the men to vent. After all, it was their blood being spilt on the grass for Rome.

Lancelot saw no point to the argument he'd rather drink, even if it was only nine.

Lana on the other hand would rather get through the morning without hollering with Galahad. She had duties, and as much as she wanted to scream over Rome, she had things to do.

"We have three days!" Lana shouted before pushing herself up with the help of the engraved table top, their names written in a dead language and varnished in a dark brown. As her chair fell behind her, Lana's apparent temper hadn't silenced with her months in Rome, as her face stayed hissing at Galahad.

"Hush Galahad," Gawain whispered, but his voice was deep enough for everyone to hear. With her cheeks crimson, and her fists clenched, Lana walked out with a purpose, and the Knights looking on. When the words escaped Gawain's lips, Galahad followed Lana's lead, and exited the hall, his feet stomping all the way.

"Tempers," Lancelot said before a sharp laugh, mimicking his young friends. Arthur raised his brow, his face seemingly shocked by the outburst. Lana had only arrived hours ago, and managed to create an dispute.

"I'm glad she missed us," Arthur muttered sarcastically, he knew Lana wished to have the mission done with to spend time with everyone, although it didn't seem like it. Galahad on the other hand was tired, and sick, yet there was no need to quarrel. "We'll leave mid-day,"


	2. Two: Scorned Lovers

Two: Scorned Lovers

Lancelot could finally breath outside of the hall. The wiping air tossed his dark curls, stinging his cheeks before he entered the barn. His long armor, weaved with black leather was dirty, and at times like this he knew he should have taken a wife. She surely would have time between tending to the garden and children to wash off the dirt. At one point, he figured Lana would be taking up that job, until Rome offered something else.

Foolishness came over his mind, the idea of how he could allow himself to become so attached to something that was frowned upon. Lancelot spent more time draping his thoughts in lost memories. He found himself swinging a sword, gutting his enemy and in the glimmer of his blade envisioning her face. For once in his life, he held a weakness, and just when he figured the flaw had disappeared, she'd returned with a Roman title, and tanned skin.

He cursed himself, more than Arthur knew. His mind worked in a fashion none of the Knights could imagine. When her face glowed in the low lit room, not only did his stomach stir, but his skin chilled.

"You give me a nasty glare and then follow me?" Her voice was noticeable, anyone at any part of Rome or Britain knew Lana's voice, and the wrath she attempted to use with it. Her sinful glare flickered onto his, and Lancelot could feel the awkward air turn violent.

"I did not follow you. Nor would I take the time,"

"Yet you take the time to mock me and raise hell."

"Can't raise what you're living in." Lancelot barked back, his voiced echoing in the barn, raised firmly with each word as Lana pushed him with hers. With his dark hair drifting over his forehead, he watched as she lowered a axe she was holding, until she held nothing in her palms. He could still notice the tattered marks she received in battle, what felt like years ago. She took the place of a Knight, something Arthur couldn't stop, especially when she saved his life on more than once occasion. Her skin, was no longer tender and smooth. But callused and dirty. Her body was muscle, and most from a distance couldn't notice her beauty until she was in eyes view. Her face, the last tender part of her body, naturally unharmed by her years of war came into eye sight, Lancelot could swear all those around fell in love. After all, he fell for the trick.

"After ten months you have nothing to show," Her murderous words hit Lancelot dearly...What did he have to prove to her? She made it clear, walking out on him that they were now nothing. What was she hoping? He was ride after her, call her name and kneel down? Lancelot never knelt, or did he waste his time attempting to swoon Lana after everything she'd said and what he'd done.

"What else do I need to prove?" His voice turned, it wasn't harsh, just misunderstood. With his eyes wide, as though tears could form, Lana crossed her legs, perched up on a box full of hay. She listened to him, as if she was asking for an excuse. "You left me Lana Castus. I have been here, fighting you're battles-"

"Do not assume that my interaction with Rome means I am sending you're missions." Lana lied, directly to his face. Her story as to why she left for Rome was to become a scholar, when truly she was there to be a commander and evenly distribute their soldiers. Besides that, she gave proper missions to outposts, such as this one. Lancelot's face became enraged as she held her ground.

"Then you've spend you're hours in Rome knitting I suppose? Beg you're pardon maiden, but to see you knit I would need to be intensely drunk."

"You believe my time in Rome is my passion, my choice?" Lana shouted, she almost looked like Lancelot when fury covered his eyes. "These Knights hold my heart,"

"_These _Knights?" He snarled as she rolled her eyes. "I can live without you're heart," The bitterness which existed in Lancelot shined without any warning, Lana stood up, her bottom lip hanging, as her eyes yearned for a proper answer.

"It's hard to believe how much I once trusted you and loved you will all my being." Lana muffled in a whimpering tone, her eyes glittering with the arrival of tears, baring down on her lashes. Lancelot coughed off any emotion, and the automatic retraction of his words to comfort the woman he loved.

"Why did you leave?" Taking a step forward, his sinister eyes latched onto hers, pushing her for the correct replies. "If it wasn't you're choice, you're passion, then why leave? Why grace Rome with you're temper?" With her fists tightly clenched, Lana lifted her chin, her brown eyes seemingly black as Lancelot watched her movements.

"I left to make Arthur happy." She clarified.


End file.
